Masks
by Marcus Sylenus
Summary: Set after Rising - Rated T for Language - M/L of course.


**Masks**

AN: I forgot the usual details, so be sure to read the disclaimer below :P Also, this is dedicated to cassiecrimson, who put up with my rants for months before I decided to start writing. Most of this story came from a series of emails we traded last year, so it's as much her fault as mine. Thanks Cass!!

Disclaimer: I don't own the show or any of the characters.

**Seattle, 2019**

Max sat on her usual spot on the Space Needle. The last months had been pretty intense, to say the least.

Her life had been very average the last couple of years, since she arrived at Seattle. She had grown used to her routine, work, drinks at Crash, riding at night when she got bored. She had friends, a roommate, a place to call her own, no matter how much of a dump it was. Until _HE_ came along.

Logan fucking Cale.

The man was trouble, with a capital t, underscored and a shitload of exclamation points. And still...

There was something about him that drew her. Beyond the obvious, of course: there was no denying that the man was good looking. Hell, he was downright hot. She wouldn't have minded fucking him a couple of times. She probably could've gotten some cash out of it, and there was some sweet loot to be had at his crib. But that was just a layer of him.

The bastard had gotten under her skin. It was bad enough that he made her run his errands, he actually had made her care.

Max snorted, imagining the look on Lydecker's face at that. He definitely would NOT be proud of her.

Of course, that alone was reason enough to do it. Still... Max thought back a few years. Remembered how things had been when she first arrived at the city.

She'd been on the run for eight years, out from the fostering system after running from Lucy's house after the pulse. She'd had many names, many jobs, many people she had considered friends at the time. It all changed when she chose Seattle as her new stop. She'd planned on staying a few months, six at most. Make some money, get a new ID and move on. And yet, here she was, almost three years later.

What bothered her most, however, was the fact that she had actually grown a lot on those years.

Of course, she had grown physically, she had aged, but she was mostly the same person that had escaped Manticore on that cold February night.

She had thought that she knew what a friend was. That was until she hooked up with Kendra. Despite her attempts at remaining distant, aloof, the seemingly silly blonde had proved to be very insightful. Kendra could see past her defenses and get at the girl in a wet smock trying to run away. And she had never pressed, just kept asking every now and then. But she'd been there for her when Max needed her.

Theo...She had defined family based on her siblings, it was something that you were born with, people that were like you. Then Theo had introduced her to the gang at Jam Pony, and she'd felt herself part of an unit once again. Theo had taken upon himself the task of teaching her all the tricks of the trade, who to bribe and how much, when to stop and when to run from check points, every alley and shortcut in the city...At first Max had taken this as just another training course; after all, Theo was the senior rider, well liked and respected by everyone, even more than Normal. Then he had helped her get an apartment, had invited her to dinner at his home, introduced her to his family and treated her as part of it. It had confused her for a while, until he had seen Theo playing with his son. And recognized his attention for what it was.

Theo treated her like a younger sister, a daughter even. Comparing him with Lydecker and her instructors at Manticore taught her what a father figure was. What a father should be.

And her next role model was, unsurprisingly, Original Cindy.

At first she had been a little thrown (_never intimidated, of course_) by Cindy's loud attitude. Then she'd started to see beyond her garish outfits and unique slang, to the warm, caring woman beneath. A strong, confident person, who took whatever the world threw at her with a smile and a cocky attitude Max found very refreshing.

Max had wore many masks in her short life, and every time she'd change name and cities she would craft a new persona to fit in a new niche. So when she started working at Jam Pony and hanging with the gang she took many attributes from her friend. The cocky, no-nonsense attitude might not have endeared her to Normal, but had bought her a lot of street cred with her peeps, and that was invaluable.

Until one day she was returning from a particularly long run, which had netted her no tip for her troubles, seething and cursing out loud at the world in general and cheap-ass customers in particular when she noticed that she sounded like her 'Jam Pony Messenger' persona even when alone. It took a while for her to accept it, but the fact remained. It was no longer an act. She _was_ the tough biker chick that the world saw. There was more to her, of course, layers that no one saw, and never would. But she had certainly changed since settling in Seattle.

Max actually belonged. She had a family of sorts. She had friends, confidants and someone that cared for her as a father should.

Max thought that life couldn't get better.

And then Logan Cale crashed into her life.

Well, to be honest, she had crashed on _his_ life. But still...

The damned man had seen through her instantly. He had known what she was, had played her like an amateur. Max had blamed it on her defenses being down, having grown careless after two years of good life. But the fact was that Logan was special. He was intelligent, insightful and _way_ too good at his job. Even months after the shooting that had landed him in the chair she didn't know exactly why she'd gone by the hospital. Why she had saved his life there. Why the FUCK she'd gone back to him three months later. All her claims that it was because he might actually find something about her siblings were bullshit, and she knew it. Because he had found very little since then. Not for lack of trying, of course, and he had gotten more in six months as a side project that Volgesang had in two years. But the truth was that she couldn't stay away.

The truth was that he had know who and what she was and didn't really care. It was useful for him, and he had no qualms about using her abilities for his crusade, but he had never been thrown off by or scared of her. And she had caught him looking at her when he thought she wouldn't notice.

Logan knew she was a genetically engineered killing machine, an instrument of death shoddily cooked in a petri dish, and still found time to check out her ass whenever he could.

He wasn't spooked, wasn't scared or repulsed by her. He saw her as a woman.

Max knew she was beautiful. She'd discovered that when she started growing breasts at thirteen. Men found her attractive. But this man knew everything about her. And apparently he didn't care. Then again, Original Cindy was right.

All men were dogs. Even the best of them.

But Logan went beyond the physical. He talked with her, really talked. He asked questions and listened to her. He challenged her mentally. He asked for and respected her opinions. He argued with her, a lot, and tried to change her way of seeing the world. But he never underestimated or dismissed her. Logan made her feel human. Special.

Max groaned, putting her head on her arms. She was _so_ screwed.

She knew that when the time came to leave it would be hard. It would be hard to leave Kendra and O.C., all her friends at Jam Pony and Crash. But the thought of never seeing Logan again caused her physical pain. It was all her fault, really. She'd let her mask slip around him. Showed him the real Max, more than a glimpse of X5-452. And he had made her dinner and challenged to a chess match. She relied on his meals, his contacts for tryptophan, their chess matches and late night talks for intellectual stimulation, and worst of all, his approval. Max had found herself leading her life more and more in a way that was closer to Logan's view of the world. She almost never stole anymore, and when she did she felt guilt. Guilt! Of all the fucked up feelings the man brought up in her, the guilt was the worse.

She could explain the longing for his company as a natural need for intellectual challenge, her usual visits to get food and a hot shower as fulfillment of basic needs, her continued involvement with and loyalty to Eyes Only as a means to an end. But the unsettling on her stomach and flushed cheeks at catching Logan during his exercises or after a shower she couldn't rationalize away. Logan was hot and desirable, given the givens, but she had been in firm control of her sexual urges since her first heath. It baffled her, and scared her to feel so out of control when around him. She'd even had told herself that she would sever all ties with him several times. The longest she had been able to hold before running back to his penthouse was a week.

_Pathetic._

By now, the idea of leaving and never see him again was too much to bear. So she had stopped thinking about it, and just went on with her life. But the fact remained she didn't just lust after Logan, didn't just wanted to be near him. She fucking needed him. Craved him. And it pissed her off.

She was a soldier, a trained operative. A killer. And here she was, moping because she was in love with Logan.

That was the worst part. She had lied to herself, hell she pretty much had convinced herself that nothing was going on. But the truth was there for the world to see. Original Cindy saw it. So did Bling. She was in love with Logan, and according to their respective friends and confidants, Logan felt the same for her.

It should make things easier. It didn't. Logan was as secretive and reserved as she was, and was too accustomed to hide behind his own masks.

Perhaps that was the problem. Both of them were used to lie to the world and themselves. It made life easier. It was safe. But one of the things that Kendra had told her about love was that it seldom was easy, and never safe. Love was messy. Love hurt. And it was worth it.

Once more Max pondered if she was just fooling herself, if it just was a simple lust-fueled infatuation, a side effect of her first close relationship with someone that knew her like no one had since she was separated from her siblings. If it was only her need for human company. But that was bullshit. She loved this man with an intensity that rivaled and sometimes surpassed her feelings for her family. She had chosen him over Zack, after all. That made up her mind. She had turned down Zack not once but three times. She could've gone to Canada with Zack and Tinga. She could have spent time with her after Zack bailed on them. She could've returned to Seattle whenever she chose. But she had remained behind. With Logan.

_For Logan._

Maybe it had been a mistake. Maybe trying to have a relationship beyond friends and partners would be a mistake. But not trying would be worst. It would've made all her decisions over the last year one big mistake. It was cowardly. And one thing Max Guevera, cat burglar, hard-ass girl was not, was a coward.

Max stood, and took a last look over her city. Then she started climbing back to her baby, her mind set on a certain high-rise apartment in Sector 9 and it's scruffy owner.

Come what may, all their masks would come off tonight. It might hurt, it might blow up in her face, she might well be making a fool of herself.

But she was through running from what she wanted.

With that last thought she blazed away into the night, towards her destiny.

FINIS

4


End file.
